SOUND OF METAL Review

Director Darius Marder's Sound of Metal is both an eye-opening yet strangely calming experience. Co-written by Derek Cianfrance (Blue Valentine, The Place Beyond the Pines) the film has his trademark feel of being wholly inhabited by real people in authentic places with a visual aesthetic that reads just as pure as the subjects. Marder, who co-wrote Pines with Cianfrance and had only directed a documentary prior to this, his debut narrative feature, lands on the perfect type of story to apply to this style. The story of Ruben (Riz Ahmed) is a very human, very grounded, and largely - a very cleansing one - but as presented through this veritable style of Marder and Cianfrance Ruben's tale takes on what feel like mythic qualities, turning it into more than just a story, but a parable. While not your traditional parable as told by Jesus in the Gospels, Sound of Metal is a more raw approach to that age old serenity prayer that people repeat to remind themselves of the influence they have over the occurrences in their life on earth. "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." In Sound of Metal, Ruben comes face to face with a reality he can neither control nor accept. As a drummer for a two-piece metal band seemingly on the cusp of bigger and better things the sense of sound is one of the most critical aspects of Ruben's life. So, when the feedback becomes more consistent, the ringing doesn't stop even after a night's rest post-gig, and the frequency of other people's voices becomes so inaudible that everyone begins to sound like Charlie Brown's teacher he knows he can't ignore the issue and he knows it won't magically go away no matter how much he needs it to. Ruben runs head first into the question of how does one preserve the hearing they have left when they can’t preserve themselves without it? It would seem the only choice Ruben has is to accept this literally deafening blow and adjust the entirety of his life moving forward, but as is expected - this is not an easy thing to do; it's maddening even. It is in this frantic period of time where the unknown is the key player that Marder both finds the films tension as well as the gateway into exploring this thesis of dealing with change, adapting to that unknown, and understanding that the cruelty of the world isn't picking on you, but challenging you to discover new ways of finding the beauty in it.    

RUN Review

I gave up on American Horror Story some time ago after consistently being intrigued for three or four episodes every year and then consistently realizing I didn't care at all about what was happening. Blame AHS for my complete lack of interest in Netflix's Ratched, but I say this to preface my review of a Sarah Paulson thriller to say I have not kept up with my Sarah Paulson performances as of late. Within those renewed opportunities I would give AHS each season though, I saw enough of the actress to understand how good she was at toeing the line between charming, conniving, and downright evil. Paulson likes to take on...complicated characters it would seem (Ocean's 8 feels more like the exception rather than the rule at this point) and that kind of duality, that type of unhinged serenity is again put to good use in writer/director Aneesh Chaganty's RUN. One may or may not recognize Chaganty's name for writing and directing 2018's Searching, but if not your memory might be jogged with the additional information that Searching is the one that takes place entirely through a computer screen and stars Harold from Harold & Kumar or Sulu from the new Star Trek films. Yep, that's the one. Searching illustrated that Chaganty had a knack for knowing how to meld story and execution in a way that provoked real understanding on the part of the character's plight while also delivering moments of genuine tension. Much of the same could be said for the filmmaker's follow-up (which he again penned with co-writer Sev Ohanian) as RUN almost feels more like an ode to Alfred Hitchcock than his previous film given the more traditional nature of the story and filmmaking approach, but while Chaganty's sophomore effort is somewhat predictable when it comes to the narrative (emphasis on somewhat due to extenuating circumstances he could not control) the film is still a grade-A thriller in regards to engaging the audience in the core mystery as well as making them feel a part of the experience. What is missing from RUN that propelled Searching into the next stratosphere though is what in fact makes this feel more like a traditional ode to Hitchcock in that there is no modern element to either convey a timely commentary or defiantly place Chaganty's own stamp on it. Instead, RUN plays things in a more orthodox fashion while doing so with the same level of craftsmanship Chaganty proved he'd mastered in his debut feature ultimately resulting in a modern mystery of a thriller that feels as if it could have debuted thirty years ago yet somehow manages to deliver if not necessarily a fresh take on the material, but a satisfying one nonetheless.  

HILLBILLY ELEGY Review

It's difficult to know where to begin with Hillbilly Elegy. In one sense, we have to consider the context of the individuals this story is about and in another we must accept this specific facet to be the truth of their lives. How does one reconcile that author J.D. Vance's memoir on which this film is based is both undoubtedly a vivid recollection of his own childhood as well as a romanticized portrait of a place in America where the pride of having been left behind has a lot to do with the refusal to move forward? The conflicted feelings about how and what the film is representing naturally extend to the DNA of the film itself as, in the opening moments, Gabriel Basso's Vance tells us how much he loved visiting rural Kentucky when he was a boy despite being raised in the rust belt of Ohio; it was the memories he made while visiting the Blue Grass State that he was most fond of. The film quickly contradicts these kind words with a scene where a thirteen year-old Vance (Owen Asztalos) encounters a band of local bullies before being rescued by his local relatives in Kentucky. Vance is obviously sentimental about these moments and has therefore made them more appealing in his memory, but how far does the gaze of these rose-tinted glasses reach? Depending on the author's age at the time of the events being described, what circumstances are being missed and what details are being diminished? How much is Vance actually misremembering? There are a lot of questions left unanswered that director Ron Howard doesn't feel the need to address as he largely focuses on the core family dynamic at the heart of Vance's story, but what's riveting about the execution of Hillbilly Elegy is that it feels the need to explain as much as it does chronicle the reasons these people have ended up the way they have. There is this notion that because they really are well-meaning people underneath their poor life choices that they deserve some type of exception when it comes to discussing said shortcomings. Aside from the complicated cultural discussion around the "hillbilly condition" though, and how sorry viewers should be made to feel for these individuals who can't get out of their own way, Howard and screenwriter Vanessa Taylor (The Shape of Water) smartly focus on the prevalent themes around how much community and family genuinely mattered to Vance while growing up in these undeniably unforgiving environments and the complexities of the problems he faced and deals with well into his adult life due to this jagged support system.       

FATMAN Review

Fatman is the kind of movie that is primed for embrace by movie nerds across the internet based on the concept alone. It almost doesn't even matter how well the writing/directing team of brothers Eshom Nelms and Ian Nelms pull this off or don't because all that really matters is that the idea remains the centerpiece. Whether everything surrounding the premise enhances the experience or not the fact they can say sixty-four year-old Mel Gibson was down for playing a disgruntled Santa Claus who has to contend with a hitman sent by a disappointed child is all they really needed to say to sell anyone on it. What does in fact actually sell said pitch though, is that the Brothers Nelms seemingly approached their script as if it were any other post-2010 Gibson actioner. In other words, St. Nick could just as easily have been played by Liam Neeson, Bruce Willis, Sean Penn or any other number of aging actors that tried their hand at the "old man action movie" genre post-Taken. While it may have been fun to see someone like Tom Cruise give this lowly low-budget B-movie a kick in the pants by playing into the bait and switch of the tone, Gibson is admittedly a perfect choice for this project. As the man will be working to rebuild his legacy for the remainder of his career these ghosts of Gibson's past somewhat work in the actors favor here as his public persona and very public meltdowns inform this version of a Santa Claus that has lost his influence and become little more than a joke to people. Hell, the role may have even been written with Gibson in mind as the screenplay is one thousand percent banking on the idea the audience will get a good chuckle out of the idea Gibson is playing Santa, a man whose whole deal is that he's completely altruistic in nature. There is no better way to appeal to the masses or earn back some gratitude than by taking the piss out of yourself and Gibson fully commits to doing so here. No, there isn't much more to the movie than this idea of a tongue in cheek take on the most innocent and well-meaning of holidays via a genre of movie that couldn't be more the opposite, but given Gibson's commitment to the bit, the Nelms' ability to manage a tone that's over the top without crossing the threshold from absurdity to stupidity, and the sheer presence that is Walton Goggins, Fatman turns out to be an amusing romp if not an immediate staple of the Christmas season.       

NOMADLAND Review

As much about those she encounters as it is Frances McDormand's Fern, Chloé Zhao's Nomadland chronicles a year in the life of a woman whose world is dying and her journey to discover a new one. McDormand's performance is as reassuring as ever, but its these portraits Zhao paints of those the grind has forgotten that give the film a sense of hope without ever romanticizing its notions. In fact, everything about Zhao's latest is as authentic as one would expect if familiar with the filmmaker's previous features in Songs My Brothers Taught Me and The Rider. While most will know Zhao's name soon enough for directing Marvel's The Eternals it is her documentary-like approach to fictional material that will seemingly carry over no matter the brand she applies it to. This stylistic approach is one that requires a certain level of patience and attention, but as with most things that are worth investing time and effort in if one is able to give those things over to the film completely what it delivers is more than a rewarding experience - it's a stunningly cathartic one. Such praise is heaped upon the film with caution, mind you, as Nomadland is also a film about both everything and nothing. It's a movie difficult to describe to people in terms of why it carries the weight it does as it would appear to be little more than a road movie from the outside looking in. This is a movie in which we see Academy Award-winner Frances McDormand play a character who goes from one job to the next, living out of her van, while allowing the third act of her life to be shaped by those she meets along the way. If this were a traditionally structured movie it would undoubtedly include some tangible goal McDormand's Fern was chasing and must reach before a certain deadline or a certain destination that holds the resolve to all her earthly issues she attempts to deal with while on her journey, but Nomadland has no such structure. If Zhao's style and approach are distinctive for nothing else it is actually the complete lack of structure her films exhibit. It is because of this abandonment of design though, that the film is able to capture the loneliness of the world without much dialogue, it is through this that it provides the audience with an exploration they themselves might be craving around who we are and what the point of all this might be while reminding us of how good we can be, need to be, and must be to one another while we're still here.